Non Redimetur
by cornu
Summary: Someone from General Grievous's past struggles to reconcile his new form.


A/N: Originally, this fic was supposed to be much longer. I had this whole redemption theme planned out, but I scrapped it because it ran contrary to Grievous's character. This is basically just a snippet of the story.

The OC is a Kaleesh woman who'd known Grievous before his transformation. And just because she's female doesn't mean there's any sort of romantic thing, just so we're all on the same page about my intentions.

The title means "he shall not be redeemed" in Latin. (Yeah Latin!)

x x x x x x x x

As more magna droids advanced on the Jedi, Grievous held out an arm to halt them. "You can hold your fire," he said. "I'll take care of him."

The Knight glanced back at Saulesh, his lightsaber at the ready. Grievous's mask and yellow eyes were illuminated in blue. He reached into his cape and withdrew two more lightsabers. Faster than her eye could follow, the Jedi leapt into action; Grievous slashed at him, but he dodged Grievous deftly. She watched bemusedly; the droids stood silent, still as statues.

She looked over at the fallen body of one of the battle droids, and at its weapon. It had been quite some time since she'd fired a blaster. Of course she kept one with her, for safety as she traversed the grimier, shadier sublevels of Coruscant, but she'd had no reason to fire, and no will to practice.

Both Grievous and the Jedi seemed quite busy. She reached over and took the blaster in her hands – an S-5. Fond memories.

/I wonder if this Jedi knows my sister, or had been friends with my brother. I wonder where he comes from, and what adventures he's seen, and whom he has helped liberate in this war./

She aimed the blaster and fired; she hit the Jedi in the wrist, the arm that held his lightsaber. His weapon flew from his hands and landed a few meters away, sending sparks down the hall. Immediately he reached to summon it, but Grievous, faster even without the Force as an ally, moved into the Jedi's path and severed his legs as he flipped to dodge Grievous's blade. The cauterized stumps smoked slightly, and the Jedi moaned. As swiftly as he had been fighting Grievous then crushed the Jedi's head with his powerful magnetized foot.

Then he looked at her.

"You always were a good shot," he said. He stalked over to where she was sitting, his clawed feet menacing from a lower angle. She peered up at him, unsmiling.

"I learned from the best." For a brief moment she expected him to extend his hand to help her up, but he did not. She looked at his hands, then realizing that they had six fingers each. Suddenly aware that she was the only one on the ground aside from the dead Knight, she stood up to face Grievous. The body seemed alien and imposing, but the eyes contained impossibly in the mask of bone were unquestionably his.

He turned away from her, leaning down to pick up the dead Jedi's lightsaber, which was still humming. He deactivated it and stowed it in a pocket in his cape.

"Dispose of the body," he said to a nearby Neimoidian, and continued down the hallway. When he fought he held his head up straight, but when he walked he was hunched, and he held his arms in front of him, bent at the elbows. Even with his spine curved downward like this, he was a full head taller than her. She began to follow him down the hallway, and he turned to her and said,

"What are you doing here, Saulesh? Why did you come? Surely you're aware that I'm far too important to have time for reunions."

She frowned. "You have to understand, General ... after you disappeared, Kalee essentially ceased to be. The entire planet is under Huk control now."

"How loyal of you to abandon it, then," he said sharply, looking away. "If you are coming as a representative of Kalee then you are doing a poor job."

"And I suppose that you have been making regular visits?" she said curtly.

Again he turned his face towards her – it was difficult to believe that those yellow eyes were once capable of conveying gentleness. That was another lifetime.

"When I knew you you were not such a fool," he growled, moving his body closer to hers. Alarmed, she backed into one of Grievous's MagnaGuards, whose staff was still crackling absently. "You have two choices: leave this ship or be killed. I can even provide you with a shuttle."

She did not take her eyes off of his. "I helped take care of your Jedi friend," she said quietly. "I can ... I am here to serve you."

Grievous knocked the guard out of the way and slammed her into the wall. It nearly knocked the wind out of her; her ribs throbbed dully and she blinked black spots out of her vision.

"Am I not being clear enough for you, stupid girl? Get out of here; stop wasting my time!"

She wrenched her tunic free of the armourplast hand that pinned her to the wall.

"Oh, my old friend," she said, turning away from him, "You still haven't seen my greatest battle scar yet. This was the one given to me just after your ship crashed into the hill." She lifted the bottom of my shirt to expose the scar; she knew Grievous would recognize the unmistakeable scorch of a lightsaber on her flesh. "From the Sith, I assume, who rescued you – and what a fortuitous coincidence that their timing was so impeccable. They arrived to collect you even before our medical team did."

Although she didn't know precisely where the hangar was in relation to them, she stepped around Grievous for dramatic effect and walked behind him down the hallway. It was quiet except for the groaning of the ship; she could hear the whirring of his joints as he moved. Still, he did not follow her. She slowed her pace, but continued dejectedly. He does not care about his former life.

"The Geonosians have deprogrammed you!" she shouted suddenly to him. "Like the droid that you are!"

It was so fast she barely had time to react: he made it down the hallway in only three or four paces, and put a lightsaber to her throat, blazing blue.

"Say that again," he snarled.

"Say you remember where you came from," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

At first he didn't move – the blade of the lightsaber was mere centimeters from her skin, humming menacingly. Then he lowered it, and returned it to his cloak. Finally, desperately, she exhaled, and looked away from him, and thus was unprepared when his hand came to close on her throat, crushing her larynx, killing her.


End file.
